


Have Your Cake...

by LizzieHarker



Series: The Arrowsverse [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Smut, Blow Jobs, Bucky is horrified, Bucky turns 100, Bucky's 100th Birthday, But also flattered, Dom Steve Rogers, He'll get over it, M/M, Massage, Oral Sex, Rimming, Steve is maliciously celebratory, Steve might also have vague regrets about Clint and Bucky being BFFs, secret bets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-10-02 13:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10219520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieHarker/pseuds/LizzieHarker
Summary: It's Bucky's 100th birthday and there's no way in hell Steve is NOT celebrating.





	1. Have Your Cake...

“On March 10th, 2017, a nation’s hero celebrated his 100th birthday . . .”

Bucky buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God, Steve, stop.” He’d walked into their apartment ten minutes ago, wanting a nice, quiet evening, and instead found an unholy number of streamers pinned to every available surface, an overly enthusiastic boyfriend, and a ragtag assembly of former Avengers in various levels of amusement gathered around a massive cake. “And for the last time, I’m not a hero. Barton,” he said, turning to Clint, “Help me.”

“Bro, I’ve got no idea what’s happening. I was told to show up, and Cap assaulted me with this party hat.” He snapped the elastic beneath his chin. At least it was a purple hat.

Steve draped his massive arms around Bucky’s neck. “You’re _my_ hero, Buck.”

Bucky joined in the collective groan, but couldn’t manage to wipe the smile off his face. “Shut up, punk.” As if he didn’t already know. As if he hadn’t seen the collage of photos from the last year making up the giant 100 on Steve’s easel in the living room. He had zero doubts that if he counted, he’d find exactly one hundred photos.

“Not a chance in hell,” Steve countered. “It’s not every day my fella celebrates his centennial, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” He kissed Bucky’s cheek, but didn’t let go. “Besides, everyone is already here. Even Scott flew in.”

The twitchy guy he’d kinda met a few years back practically vibrated in his seat. “Oh, man, I never imagined I’d be invited to a party by Captain America. Think you for thanking of me,” Scott said. Bucky still wasn’t sure what to make of him, but he seemed mostly all right. 

“As I was saying,” Steve continued, “you, Bucky Barnes, are a goddamn miracle. I’m the luckiest guy alive to count you as both my best friend and my partner. You’re everything I’ve wanted since 1935, and you’re everything I’ve waited the last seventy years for. There hasn’t been a moment yet that’s felt anything short of wonderful. I’m so damn proud of you and so thankful you’re here. You are my hero, Buck, every day. I love you. Jerk.”

Bucky felt the blush burning up his neck and in his face. “Can we just have a normal party and eat cake?”

“Yeah, we could, but I thought you’d be more excited about the presents.”

He perked up. “Presents?”

Steve finally let go and disappeared into their bedroom. Bucky exchanged a look with Clint, who shrugged. Natasha and Sam elbowed one another. 

“I bet this is it,” she whispered. “Has to be. Especially since you were wrong about Christmas and New Year’s.”

Sam shook his head. “I know we both agreed that Valentine's Day was too sappy, even for him, but I don’t know, Nat . . .”

“Seriously? With a speech like that, this has gotta be it!”

“What the futz are you two gossiping about?” Bucky asked. He couldn’t decide if he was more interested in the answer, or how Natasha managed to make her dorky red glitter party hat not as awkward as it should be. She probably shamed it into behaving.

Clint slid a box across the table. “If we’re doing the presents thing, here.”

“If you didn't know it was my birthday, how’d you get me a gift? And you know you didn’t have to, right?”

“Course I did. Best bro and all.”

Bucky jostled Clint’s shoulder and opened the box. “Aw, Barton,” he said, picking up one of the throwing knives and cradling it in his palm.

“And they’re perfectly balanced.”

He tested it out with a couple of simple tricks. “They’re great. Thank you. But you know Stevie isn't gonna let me keep them in the house.”

“S'why I gave them to you before he came back.”

“You’re amazing.”

Clint beamed. “I am.”

Bucky stashed the knives and kicked the box under the table just before Steve returned, carrying a shirt box in his arms, wrapped in red, white, and blue paper. 

“Aw,” Nat sighed. “That's too big.”

“Ha! Pay up, Widow. That’s $200 and the next four trips to Starbucks are on you. And you have to pet Redwing.”

Natasha shoved a wad of bills at Sam. “I am not cuddling your weird mechanical bird friend. And I’ll win my money back, don’t you worry.”

“What are you betting on?” Steve asked, reclaiming his seat at Bucky’s right.

Nat opened her mouth; Sam elbowed her again. Bucky looked at Clint. Clint shrugged and drank his coffee. Scott just looked like an overexcited lapdog. Wanda wore a tiny smile. 

Weirdos, all of them.

“Presents?” Bucky said again.

“Oh, yeah.” Steve handed Bucky his gift, a blush coloring his cheeks. Bucky wondered if he could judge Steve’s level of sappiness by how far down that blush traveled. Once they kicked everyone out of their apartment, he’d find out exactly how far it went.

Bucky tore the paper to shreds. “Aw, Stevie. How’d you know I wanted a box?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Open the box, Buck.”

He slipped his fingers beneath the seam but stopped. “What if I don’t want to? What if I like the antici—” He grinned.

“Say it!” Barton yelled.

Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Steve swore.

Sam and Natasha joined in. “Language!”

“—pation.”

“Barton, I will never forgive you for showing him that movie,” Steve said.

“I can live with that. What’s in the box, Buck?”

“Your wife’s pretty head, Barton.”

Barton nearly choked on his coffee. “Ain’t married, bro. Never, no way, no how. Not even if I hid out on a farm in Iowa.”

Steve sighed. “Every day I’m torn between being glad that you two get on like a house on fire and regretting ever introducing you.”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Cap?” Clint teased.

“Now he has too many snipers. Can’t handle us both.” Bucky edging the top of the box up another inch. “Am I gonna like it?”

“I hope so.”

“Can I wear it?”

“Yes.”

“Stevie,” Bucky said, a sly smile curling his mouth. “Did you get me lingerie?”

“Of course I did, but that you can’t unwrap in front of guests. More importantly, I can’t unwrap you in front of guests.” Bucky’s eyes went wide. Steve turned violently red. “I said that last part out loud, didn’t I?”

Bucky nodded. It was Steve’s turn to bury his face in his hands. He pried the lid the rest of the way off and tossed it aside. Something blue lurked beneath the white tissue paper. Bucky pulled it apart, and his heart stopped. A neatly folded jacket sat nestled in the paper, and Bucky ghosted his fingers over the familiar wing stitched on the left sleeve. “Oh, Steve.”

Steve looked up, still bright red, but a smile on his lips.

“Stevie, did you rob the Smithsonian for me?”

He shook his head. “I had it remade, including an extra seam allowance for your left arm. It shouldn’t snag or tear in the plates. Do you like it?”

Bucky stood and stripped off the jacket he’d been wearing, putting the blue one on instead. It fit perfectly, better than he remembered. He’d loved this damn jacket so much he’d made Stark order two. He swooped down, kissing Steve full on the lips. Bucky pulled back, straightening his coat. “How do I look?”

Steve’s eyes were misty. “Gorgeous.” He stood and tugged at Bucky’s collar, pulling him forward into a kiss.

It would have been a nice kiss, Bucky was damn sure of that, but it was rudely interrupted by a slice of cake wedging itself between them. Buck leaned forward, trying to avoid getting anything on the most wonderful jacket in the world. Steve glared at Natasha.

“What?” she asked, sliding the cake off her fork and into her mouth. “It’s a birthday party. It’s what you do.”

Bucky carefully took off his gift and set it aside. “You made this cake, too, didn’t you?”

Steve’s horrified expression looked less horrific beneath a layer of frosting. “Why, is it bad? Oh god, it’s terrible, isn’t it?” He wiped at his face with a napkin, smearing the icing across his cheek.

“No, baby doll, it’s fine,” Bucky said. He darted his tongue across his lips. Could use more sugar. Or any sugar. He cleared the rest with a napkin. “Thank you.” Steve beamed. Bucky licked the frosting off Steve’s cheek, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Once everyone’s had cake, send them the fuck home so _we_ can get to celebrating. I got a whole can of frosting and about a hundred things I wanna do to you.”

“Do we have to wait for them to _eat_ the cake?”

“Tell ‘em to take a slice to-go. The second that door locks, you’re mine.”

Steve breathed a laugh against Bucky’s hair. “I hope we’re imagining the same scenario. Can’t let this occasion go off without a bang.”

Bucky smiled. “Trust me, sweetheart, there’ll be way more than one.”


	2. ...And Eat It, Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubted I'd get this done before _Steve's_ 100th, but here we are, as promised. ;)   
>  Bonus: the return of Dom!Steve.

Bucky’s blood hummed as he waited for everyone to leave, doing his best to smile politely and thank them for sitting around and eating cake and celebrating or whatever. Clint was last to go. He took his time, and Bucky tried not to pick him up and throw him out. He almost clipped Clint’s heels with the door as he stepped into the hall. Bucky switched the lock into place and goddamnit, was Clint _giggling_?

“Get lost, Barton,” he called.

“Love you too, bro,” Clint called back. Bucky could hear him smirking. “Enjoy your piece of cake.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but whatever smart comment he was about to make died when Steve turned him around and shoved him back into the wall, effectively silencing him. Snarky comments were tough to deliver with Steve’s tongue in his mouth.

Steve tasted warm and sweet, frosting overlaying the flavor that was purely _him_ , and he didn’t relent until Bucky was breathless, gasping in the seconds they parted but never managing to draw enough air. Bucky’s fingers tangled in Steve’s hair. Steve’s hands hit the wall to either side of Bucky’s head and he leaned in close, nuzzling his neck, licking at the shell of his ear. Steve growled, the single word he uttered hot against Bucky’s skin.  


“Strip.”

Bucky’s hands fell to Steve’s hips and slid to the front of his jeans. “I like it when you’re aggressive.” His right hand slipped lower, pressing against Steve’s cock. “Looks like you’re enjoying it, too.”

Steve jerked at the collar of the greatest jacket in the history of fashion, and Bucky paled. He’d put it back on after the cake incident; couldn’t resist. He wanted to wear it for the rest of his life. “Wait, Stevie, don’t . . . don’t rip it.” He shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it onto the couch. 

“Well, that’s a start,” Steve said, voice low. “Get naked and get on the table.”

Bucky shivered. “You want me naked, baby, you’re either gonna need to back up or strip me yourself.” Bucky darted his tongue against Steve’s lips. “Bet you can guess which option I hope you pick.”

The growl that escaped Steve struck inside him like a match. Steve pressed him back against the wall, one hand catching the back of Bucky’s neck, the other popping the button on Bucky’s jeans. He kissed Bucky with enough force to bruise; his hand slipped below the waistband, his fingers brushing against Bucky’s length.

“Oh god,” Bucky gasped, but Steve didn’t let him take enough breath to continue speaking. Steve worked his hand around, grip firm as he stroked Bucky’s cock. Bucky wished his pants were anywhere but on. He moved to push them off his hips; Steve caught his wrist and pinned it to the wall over his head.

“Don’t.” Sharp teeth nipped into Bucky’s lower lip. “Other hand. Up.”

Bucky obeyed. Giving in usually felt too easy, but Steve hadn’t left him any room for thoughts of resisting, only the cascade of sparks beneath his skin, the heat building in his belly, and the dark, unlimited promise of _yes, yes, yes_.

His knees weakened, and Bucky dropped his arms to Steve’s shoulders to keep himself upright as he spilled hot over Steve’s hand. He craved more; the heat of Steve’s body, the taste of his skin. Pressing his face into Steve’s neck, he tried to regain his breath. Steve chuckled and shifted back. 

“Well?” he asked.

Bucky shed his jeans and shirt as fast as he could, taking a swipe with the shirt to clean up his mess. 

Steve rewarded him with another burning kiss. “Good boy.” His fingers carded through Bucky’s hair, then tugged. “On the floor.”

Bucky smirked, angling his head in the hope Steve would go for his neck. “I thought you said table.”

He didn’t take the bait. “Changed my mind. Down. Now.”

Steve pushed him toward the living room, but Bucky took his time, staring at Steve over his shoulder as he dropped to his knees. “How d’you want me, Cap?”

“Face down,” Steve commanded. He snatched a pillow off the couch and threw it at him. “Eyes closed.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky tucked the pillow under his head. He heard Steve move toward their bedroom, the sound of drawers opening and closing. Maybe he’d gotten him lingerie after all. Better yet, maybe Steve got himself something nice. Unfortunately, what Bucky didn’t hear was the sound of Steve undressing. Surprisingly light footsteps drifted closer; at least he’d taken off his shoes. Bucky felt the air shift a moment before Steve straddled him, knees on either side of Bucky’s hips. His weight shifted as he set a few things on the floor and sat back up again. Bucky raised his brows but kept his eyes closed.

Steve rubbed his hands together before gently setting them against Bucky’s back. He drew his fingers down toward Bucky’s hips and slid them up again to tangle in his hair. Bucky melted. He felt Steve laugh, his touch moving to the base of Bucky’s skull, carefully massaging his neck. The pressure shifted into the heels of his hands, and he dragged them between Bucky’s shoulder blades and along his spine. Bucky’s breath escaped him in a sigh. 

Those damn artist’s fingers spread out along his shoulders, thumbs kneading the muscle where it met his neck. The left side ached so much worse under those delicate caresses. Bucky rarely noticed the pull from the metal arm, but now he felt the tension dragging at his bones. Steve held still a moment, the warmth from his hands seeping through Bucky’s skin. 

“Breathe, Buck,” Steve whispered. 

He hadn’t realized he’d stopped. Bucky shifted his focus to evening out his breaths. In and out through the nose, each the same length, with the same intensity.

“Good.” Then Steve’s fingers sank into his hair again.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back. He shifted, lengthening his neck, and Steve worked gentle circles around the base of Bucky’s skull. 

“When did you learn to do this, baby doll?”

“Couple days ago. Internet. So helpful.” His hands drifted back across Bucky’s shoulders, one ghosting over scar tissue, the other working into the muscle. “You keep all your tension in your neck and shoulders. I’m sure it hurts, but I know you don’t like strangers touching you.”

“I love you touching me,” Bucky mumbled. He shivered, tingles racing along his spine.

“I kinda figured that.” Steve moved lower, the heels of his hands pressing into Bucky’s back in a slow glide. He fanned his fingers out along Bucky’s hips, returned to massaging with his thumbs. 

“Can you do this all day?”

“Yeah, I could,” Steve answered, and then Bucky heard the click of a cap and felt something cold run up his back. Steve spread the oil across his skin. “But then we wouldn’t get to the fun part.”

Bucky’s comment dissolved into as gasp as Steve ran his tongue along his spine. The pleasant sparks beneath his skin converged and burned hotter. A second lick dragged a moan from him. Bucky curled his toes, shivering as Steve pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Please tell me this is the fun part,” he said.

“One of them.” 

Steve pressed harder and Bucky felt the tension loosen beneath his skin. “Holy hell, Stevie. That feels amazing.”

“I’m glad I opted for the flavored oil.”

Bucky turned his head, peeking up at him over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah? What do I taste like?”

“Currently,” Steve said, “like cherries.” He kissed his way back down.

“Guess we had the same idea after all,” he said, already half-hard and aching. “Was kinda hoping I’d be tasting you though.”

Steve hummed, cupping Bucky’s rear as he left another kiss at the small of his back. “Can’t have your cake and eat it too, Buck.” Steve’s weight lifted, and for a moment Bucky thought he was getting up (and hopefully getting a lot more naked). The only warning he had was a quick, warm breath before Steve spread his cheeks and licked into him. Bucky bit his lip, a strangled whimper rushing up his throat. He wanted to push onto his knees, press back against that wonderful, wicked tongue. Steve kept him pinned, taking his sweet time as he licked at him again, teeth grazing flesh. 

“Oh, god. Stevie, please,” Bucky begged.

“Please what?” 

The same _pop_ sounded again and this time Steve pressed his fingers against Bucky’s hole, the tip of one inching in. Bucky’s cock throbbed between his stomach and the floor. He tried to rock back but Steve was in no hurry, tracing circles with one hand and kneading Bucky’s ass with the other. Bucky whimpered, pillowing his forehead on his arms.

“Want you so bad, baby doll. Stop teasing and take me.”

“Take you where, Buck? Can’t go out like this.”

Steve was an absolute, insufferable shit. 

“Damn it, Rogers, fuck me already,” Bucky growled.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I think maybe,” he said, sliding one finger in and hitting Bucky just right, making him keen. He buried his face in the pillow, biting down on his bottom lip as a second finger joined the first. His body shuddered, and Bucky desperately tried to move, to work Steve’s fingers deeper. Instead, for all Bucky’s trouble, Steve pulled away. 

Bucky pushed himself up enough to glare at Steve, face flushed. “I thought that was a gift, not torture.”

“Torture?” Steve said, feigning hurt. “Buck, it takes time to work someone over. I wanna make this a night you won’t forget. Besides,” he added—and the bastard had the nerve to shrug before slicking up a third finger and making Bucky nearly forget his name. “Besides, you certainly sound like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Steve finally relented, easing up on his legs, but Bucky couldn’t gather enough words as Steve kept at it, loosening him up. It wouldn’t take much more to push him over the edge. His stomach tightened, all the fire and need pooling in his belly, working along his nerves. And then goddamn Steve Rogers slowed his hand. Bucky could have cried.

Or strangled him.

Apparently, he did cry because Steve placed another kiss above his tailbone. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“Oh, god, your tongue. Please. I’m so close, Stevie,” Bucky whimpered. “Your tongue. Christ, your dick. Please.”

He felt Steve smirk against his skin. “I know I’m talented, but I’m not that flexible, sweetheart. Gonna have to choose.”

Bucky inhaled a shuddering breath. “Your mouth.”

Steve withdrew his fingers and flattened his tongue against Bucky before easing in, licking and sucking and pulling him apart. Bucky felt himself locking up, the static in his blood unbearable. His skin burned, heart pounding, and finally—fucking finally—Steve’s tongue brushed against him and Bucky collapsed, the shock of his orgasm rolling through him in waves. 

Then he was on his back, Steve lapping at his stomach, over his ribs, along the column of his throat, and Bucky didn’t think he’d ever be able to breathe again as Steve licked against his lips before kissing him. It took two attempts before Bucky got his arms up and around Steve, metal fingers tangling in his hair. Steve gave him a quick peck before ducking out of his grip. Bucky’s arms flopped by his sides, useless. 

“It’s important,” Steve muttered, breath hot against Bucky’s chest, “to have symmetry when giving a massage.” He circled his tongue around Bucky’s nipple, biting just hard enough to make him arch a little. A second later, the other one was given the same attention. Bucky was already hard again.  
Steve was gonna put him in a goddamn coma.

His fingers trailed lower and Steve nudged his nose against Bucky’s shaft before he sat up and began working the muscles of Bucky’s inner thighs. Bucky sighed, spreading his legs wider. The thigh massage was great and all, but then Steve leaned down and took the head of Bucky’s cock into his mouth. He sucked gently, as thorough as he’d been with every other touch and caress. All Bucky could focus on was the warm, wet heat of Steve’s mouth. He reached out to touch Steve’s hair, and he felt Steve fucking _laugh_. 

Hollowing his cheeks, Steve sucked harder. Bucky felt the tip of his cock touch the top of Steve’s throat. His thoughts misted and fell away, leaving only the fire raging under his skin, edged out with the pleasure-pain of oversensitivity. 

Steve didn’t relent. He curled one hand around Bucky, moving in time with his mouth, while the other cradled his balls. Bucky felt himself unravel, every loose thread and hairline fracture failing to hold him together. He arched up, mouth open, and Steve sucked him through it, swallowing gamely until Bucky hit the ground again. 

Somewhere he scraped up enough energy to laugh. “I still taste like cherries, baby doll?”

Steve leaned over and kissed him again, letting Bucky taste himself on Steve’s tongue. “Better. You look so goddamn beautiful spread out before me and completely wrecked.”

Bucky raised his left hand, patting Steve’s cheek before tearing his shirt away. The rest of him was exhausted and not entirely cooperative, but the benefit of metal limbs was lack of fatigue. He took Steve’s momentary surprise as an opening, drawing up all that fury and lust and want. “How the fuck are you still dressed? Take it off. Now,” he ordered.

Steve slipped what remained of his shirt off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. He made no move to strip off his jeans. Bucky growled, knocking him backward, claiming Steve’s mouth with teeth and tongue. He bit at Steve’s plush lower lip, nipped along his jaw, and sank his teeth into Steve’s neck hard enough to leave a mark. “And you, baby, you taste goddamn amazing.”

With hardly any effort, Steve flipped Buck back onto the floor. “I’m the one in charge here, Buck,” he said. He smirked. “Not too worn out, are you?”  
“If you aren’t naked and fucking me in the ten seconds—“ But Bucky didn’t get the chance to finish his threat. Steve set Bucky’s ankles on his shoulders, sitting up to unbutton his fly. He undid the zipper click by agonizing click.

“What was that?” he asked, nudging his fingers into Bucky’s hole. “You’ll what?” Bucky’s head rolled back. “Thought so. C’mon, sweetheart, one more round. Best one yet.” Steve finally ditched the jeans, trailing his down his abs to tug at his own erection. “You know I love making you come on my dick.”

“So fucking do it.” What was supposed to be a snap ended in a plea. It wouldn’t take long for—what, round four?—but he still wanted Steve, wanted him so badly his heart ached, wanted to feel him inside, wanted Steve to shatter him and piece him back together and break him again. 

Steve pressed his hips into Bucky’s, their cocks brushing against each other and Bucky nearly lost it. His bones shook, everything alight and alive and burning with need. His vision was the first thing to go; even with his eyes open, he couldn’t see straight. His heart pounded in his chest, threatened to break his ribs, the rush of his blood the only sound.

And then Steve slid into him, turning Bucky’s thoughts into vivid, buzzing static. He felt it spread into his veins, seep into the spaces between his bones, crackle through his muscles and beneath his skin. Steve rocked back and pressed in again. This time he leaned over, and Bucky felt Steve’s tongue against his lips. He opened his mouth, letting him in, letting Steve trace every inch of him. Steve’s fingers drew lines down his arms. A light touch ghosted against his palms and Steve laced their fingers together. Bucky squeezed back with everything he had. 

It was too much, too much to hold, too much to feel. And Steve kept going, dragging everything out of him, pressing their foreheads together, sharing his breath. Everything hurt in the best way Bucky could imagine. Steve kissed him again, long and deep and so delicate, Bucky thought his heart might stop. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve Steve, didn’t deserve to feel everything all at once. Didn’t deserve to be so goddamn in love and be loved in return. 

“You deserve everything,” Steve whispered.

Bucky came undone, spilling between them, arched upward and head falling back. He felt Steve’s hands against his back, holding him up, holding him together as he shattered. Steve nuzzled into the side of his neck and the last thing Bucky felt was Steve filling him, and if that was the last thing Bucky ever felt again, he’d hang on to it forever because nothing was more right, more perfect, than that moment, than being with Steve, than feeling absolutely, completely, undoubtedly human.

*

Bucky woke with his head cradled against Steve’s chest, sparks still flaring along his limbs. Steve carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Welcome back, sweetheart.”

“You’re a fucking wonder, Stevie,” Bucky murmured, closing his eyes.

Steve shook with laughter. “I’m gonna chose to take that in both senses of the word.”

“Of course you are. Damn punk.”

“Jerk.” 

Steve stroked Bucky’s hair, and Bucky listened to the sound of Steve’s heartbeat, his breathing. “That was amazing. You even got me fireworks,” Bucky whispered.

“Of course I did. I mean it, Buck. You deserve to be happy, and loved, and cared for, including all the cheesy decorations and a somewhat decent birthday cake. You deserve to be celebrated. You deserve everything, and I wish I could give it to you.”

Bucky pushed himself up and slotted his mouth against Steve’s, tongues sliding together, and Bucky tried to pour everything, every ounce of love, adoration, and gratitude into him. Steve’s cheeks were flushed when he pulled away, and Bucky knew he looked the same. “You do, every day. You’re here with me in this impossible future, and I don’t know how to begin or who to thank for you. You’re the only gift I need.” He smirked. “Okay, you and that amazing jacket,” he added.

Steve smiled and pulled him close. Bucky wanted nothing more than to stay on the floor forever with his best guy. “Happy birthday, Buck. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Stevie. So goddamn much.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was aiming for a birthday fic involving said frosting and Bucky's highly detailed list, but alas, not enough time. You get fluff instead.
> 
> For now.
> 
> After all, there's a second part to that title... ;) 
> 
> Happy birthday, Buck


End file.
